Undergraduate / 'Back to Adam' - Vassar Supplement: Walking Backwards [12]

Right now, my essay clocks in around 800ish words, and I would love to cut it down. All comments and suggestions are welcome, and I'd be happy to return the favor! :)

Prompt: How did you learn about Vassar and what aspects of our college do you find appealing?

"Here, walk backwards with me!"

I thought my tour guide, Adam, was kidding. He wasn't. This was not exactly how I anticipated my first ever college tour to be conducted.

I'd been interested in visiting Vassar ever since I encountered a Vassar Representative at a fall college fair at Nassau Coliseum. The photos showed a beautiful campus, and the curriculum fit me like a glove, but it was the representative's enthusiasm for the school that sealed the deal. I have often imagined myself being as in love with a college as she seemed to be and knew in an instant that a visit was in order.

Back to Adam.

It was a crisp wintery day when I ventured to Poughkeepsie, and Vassar's grounds looked like something out of a Thomas Kincaid painting. When I met Adam, I learned that he had grown up one town away and enjoyed an animated chat about Long Island. When the rest of our group arrived, Adam began the tour and I couldn't help but stare, wide eyed, as he turned to face the assemblage to walk backwards! I looked at the other guides and each one was doing the same thing. Better yet, every guide was walking backwards while it was snowing!

I found myself immediately worried for Adam's health. He was detailing campus highlights, meanwhile the only things I could think of were the potential hazards Adam would face. What would happen if he unwittingly stepped on a patch of black ice? What if he slid, fell and hurt himself? He wasn't even wearing boots or sneakers! Who gives a college tour wearing dress shoes when it's snowing? If that wasn't bad enough, Adam was facing into the wind and blowing snow. What if a wintery gust blew right in his face as he was walking backwards, he became disoriented, tripped over his sneaker-less feet, fell, and hit his head? I was going to have to keep close tabs on Adam.

He regaled the group with Vassar's colorful and extensive history while I watched his feet. He told a colorful tale about the freshman experience while I concentrated on the pavement behind him. Suddenly, he stopped and I nearly knocked him over. What happened? I looked up to find his blue eyes locked on mine as he uttered the fateful phrase: "Why don't you just walk backwards with me? You might actually enjoy it!"

Had he actually just singled me out in front of the group? He had and, in doing so, he knew I had no choice. The rest of the group looked on skeptically, my fellow prospective students sizing me up, as Adam turned me around. "Trust me." He resumed his relay of all things Vassar as I struggled to walk backwards using his voice as my only guide. My cautious initial steps led to countless stumbles, and it took every ounce of my resolve to not look over my shoulder. I had to trust Adam, a student who I had only met ten minutes prior. Why do these things only happen to me?

As I slowly let my eyes shift focus from the pavement to what was directly in front of me, it was an entirely new perspective. I imagined the various fragrances and picturesque view of Shakespeare Garden in the spring enveloping me as Adam described it in full detail, and pictured flowers blooming with each passing step. I experienced Adam's wonders of Vassar from his unique tour guide perspective. And then we were at College Center! Due to the inclement weather, the Center was the most active part of campus. I, the novice backwards walker, was being aided and waved to by other students. I couldn't help but feel like I already belonged amongst this eclectic mix of Vassar residents!

The one part of the tour that stopped me in my [backwards] tracks was the library. From a young age I've devoured books of all kinds and entering the Vassar library proved moving and magical. The gothic architecture, Cornaro Window, and the endless tomes all left me light-headed. I had found Nirvana. The proverbial deal had been sealed.

The subsequent colleges that I visited bore the great disadvantage of having to measure up to Vassar. Sadly, no other library felt magical. No students randomly waved at me. Not one guide invited me to walk backwards. No one painted as inviting a college portrait as Adam had. Not only was his tour spectacular, but he also managed to teach me the true meaning of going against the grain. I know that I want to be in Adam's position come next year to such an extent that I have been secretly practicing walking backwards. Oh, and should I be conducting a winter tour, you can be sure that I'll be armed with ice melt!

Thanks again!

Undergraduate / Williams Essay: My First Run-In with the Police [4]

Thank you in advance for all comments and suggestions!

Prompt: Imagine looking through a window at any environment that is particularly significant to you. Reflect on the scene, paying close attention to the relation between what you are seeing and why it is meaningful to you. Please limit your statement to 300 words. (Mine is at 340 right now...where can I cut down?)

I look back through the plate-glass windows, and excitedly wave goodbye to the six state troopers standing stoically on the other side. If you had told me three hours earlier that my visit to the Senate Offices would warrant an armed escort out of the building, I would have laughed. Who would have guessed that my first run-in with the police took place while I was fighting (civilly) for gay rights?

I had traveled to Albany with a mini-consortium of human rights groups representing Empire State Pride Agenda to lobby for marriage equality. The group had one mission that afternoon: to locate our ever-elusive Senator Dean Skelos. The illustrious congressman had been dodging e-mails and phone calls for weeks but we were undeterred. With unabashed excitement, our political science version of "Where's Waldo?" began.

With wide eyes, his staffers informed us that the Senator was on the floor for a vote followed by a full calendar of meetings in his "other" office. Thanking them, we set out for the Senate floor to await his departure from voting. After the last Senator exited we figured out that he had exited a side door. Sneaky Waldo. With heightened enthusiasm, the group set out for the Senator's second office. One escalator, two grand staircases, an aged elevator, and an impossibly long hallway brought us face to face with two State Troopers outside the Senator's office. Found Waldo!

The scene became completely ridiculous when four additional state troopers and six senate guards materialized; it became apparent we were unwelcomed visitors. The News 1 crew disagreed: they proceeded to interview each of my fellow group members, disregarding the uniformed men. It was the first time I had witnessed, or even participated in a civil protest, and here I was, viewed as a key member! Bob, one of the troopers, decided to pursue the route of sore loser, though, giving my interview an abrupt end as he escorted me out of the building. I had survived my first run-in with the "man." Tag, game over.

Undergraduate / COLAGE and Advocacy, and Why Brown?--Common App and Supplement [4]

I have two dads but live in a conservative town. After I came to terms with my father's orientation, I eagerly researched groups of like-situation teens. Ironically (and around the same time), the head of the New York City chapter of the Children of Lesbians and Gays Everywhere (COLAGE) contacted me, and so began my journey. Focusing on building community and working toward social justice, COLAGE introduced me to the world of advocacy. Due to my enthusiasm and dedication, I was given the title of Youth Representative and soon found myself responsible for coordinating all events for the 21-and-under group, including fundraising, online networking and facilitating all meetings. Shortly after, I was asked to represent COLAGE National in Albany to lobby for equal rights. Not only did I learn that one voice can have an impact, but that I also enjoy being that voice.

---Let me know what you think and if you feel I need to elaborate on certain parts or remove needless sentences. Thank you for all criticisms and comments!

Why Brown?

It all began with a SPARK. Three years ago, and the day before my Molecular Biology course started, my father and I spent hours exploring the campus and its surroundings. It was love at first sight. Gone were any reservations of loneliness and fear. I was home.

I quickly realized that Brown had much more to offer than its New Curriculum. It holds future friends, unique experiences and the exciting unknown. I fully expected that the luster might wear off when I returned to visit as a prospective student this past March. Everyone knows how first loves are, but my love for Brown only intensified. Where else would I be able to engage in cutting-edge research while reading books forbidden by society; delve into E. coli's genome while discussing human rights and Sophocles? And Thayer Street! Of course I have visited other schools, but Brown is the barometer to which I have held each. Its quiet excitement and welcoming demeanor make me feel as though I am already a Bruin. Only time will tell...

--I'm not sure about the ending on this one. Any suggestions?

Again, thank you all!
~Lauren =]

Undergraduate / "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" - Topic of your Choice Essay [4]

want to say this is "Topic of your Choice," but it could also be considered a Significant Experience. Regardless, I would love some feedback on the essay as I want to submit everything as soon as possible.

Please, do NOT hesitate to rip it to shreds! Any suggestions, criticisms are welcomed with open arms!

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" Damned if I know! When I was little I would have answered with a resounding, "Me!" because I was a six-year-old Disney Princess. By sixth grade I would have named anyone but myself. And now? Let me get back to you.

In first grade, life was wonderful. My parents gave me a baby brother, school was exciting, I had plenty of friends, and I was constantly happy. The full length mirror on my bedroom door always revealed a smiling girl with brilliant emerald eyes, beautiful chocolate brown curls, and incredibly rosy cheeks. I was Cinderella at the ball. By the time fifth grade rolled around, however, my world imploded and shards rained down around me. My classmates had suddenly become a gaggle of ugly step-sisters. My teacher, Cruella, repeatedly held me up for scholastic ridicule. The real knock-out punch came when my parents announced they were separating and my father came out to me. Where's a poisoned apple when you need one? In the days that followed, my mirror revealed a girl with cried-out, glassy eyes; frizzy hair with little shape; and pale, slightly pimpled skin. I didn't recognize myself.

At age twelve, I surprised myself by winning the lead role of Mary Poppins in the school play. I liked being someone other than myself, and thus began my smoke and mirrors phase in middle school. I exercised an ability to assimilate myself into new groups by modifying the me that they saw. I was a one-way mirror reflecting who each group wanted me to be. With each acceptance, my inner strength increased. Simultaneously, I was enveloped in a permanent cloud of invisible smoke, not letting anyone see my core self. I was a magician's assistant in a magic box: there one second, gone the next.

I reached a crossroads when I decided to run for Class Vice President in ninth grade. I desperately wanted to improve student-administration relations and instill in my classmates a desire to give back, yet I was terrified of the responsibility that accompanied it. I courted every school subculture for votes and, although each rewarded me with a warm embrace and a win, I began to wonder which group I really belonged to. The day after my victory, I stopped in front of the glass case holding the candidates photos and I just stared at my picture. The perfectly coiffed and smiling image was not the same girl returning my gaze in the glass door. Though they shared the same features, the reflection before me was distorted and uncertain; more Quasimodo than Esmeralda. Who was I really?

I have realized that it is time I stopped wasting my energy on magical transformations. With my first win behind me, the time has come for me to epitomize the best Disney heroines by accepting the hand I have been dealt. With each achievement and charitable act that my various office positions have helped me execute, my confidence has strengthened, my smile broadened, and my reflection is evolving into that campaign picture. Years of tutoring, mentoring, elected positions, and most recently a research internship all enabled me to find my glass slipper and escape the smoke and magic box. And now, sitting on my bed across from my bureau mirror, I truly appreciate that I am not Belle, Ariel, or Snow White. I am me. I will be the Fairest One of All.

Undergraduate / Brown Supplement Essay---Intellectual Experience. Failure is the new Success. [9]

Hi everyone!

The prompt is: Tell us about an intellectual experience, project, class, or book that has influenced or inspired you. It's a 500 word limit essay, and I'm just at 488.

I appreciate any and all criticisms!

I was a one liter solution of nerves with 75% anxiety and 25% excitement. My commute from suburbia to disturbia was spent [working on] my new hobby of nail-biting. A year-long effort was being held in 25 milliliters of Tryptic Soy Broth agar. I entered my molecular pathogenesis lab at the NYU Medical Center, silently praying my Petri dish would yield positive results (such is the life of a researcher). Remaining optimistic, I walked with confidence and enthusiasm, an unexpected bounce in my steps. I open the incubator door and...failure.

It was never supposed to happen this way. Success was all I anticipated when I first met Dr. Richard Novick. His uncanny resemblance to Einstein instantly put me at ease. With a grandfatherly demeanor, he offered me a chair from which I had to clear off a year's worth of Scientific American. That feeling of tranquility subsided within minutes of small talk, when he decided to get "down to business" and discuss my research proposal. "A novel route to treating MRSA, huh?" His lack of enthusiasm caused a wave of panic to wash over me. How could I execute my project without the proper lab or support?

I felt like I was bartering for a kidney (and I already have three). The more intimidated I became, the more incapable I was of addressing his thoughts or concerns. I was losing my cool. Would I lose out on the opportunity to experience the real scientific world, too? Before I could explore the rest of that thought, Dr. Novick's gentle voice interrupted with, "Promising. How often will you be able to come into the lab for the next year?" I had just been offered an internship with the King of Staph Infections. Life was good.

Instantly, my new constant companions were micropipettes and 1.5% agarose gels. I was elated and terrified. Surrounded by tremendous post-doctorates, the Fish-Out-of-Water became my self-proclaimed title. I became consumed by the need to bring myself up to their intellectual levels, spending countless nights with PubMed as my only caffeine rush. I went from scratching my head at each abstract to delving into the language of research, eagerly recounting my findings to my parents. I was even approached by several colleagues to discuss our various experiments! Could it be that I actually comprehended scientific jargon? Or was I inhaling too much sodium citrate?

Fast forward one year. Without having been given a moment to gather myself and take a breath, my world became measured by conversions, potent bacterial colonies and pipette tips. I welcomed it with open arms. The challenge to connect to my fellow lab members and to execute my project without aid became my own scientific puberty. Although my results did not yield as hoped, I was able to catalyze my own growth. My failed experiment was surpassed by my ability to assimilate myself into an analytically driven world. Failure is the new Success.

Undergraduate / I am Vampire Slayer (not Dracula or the coven of the Twilight series type) [4]

Have you ever met a vampire slayer? Well, allow me to introduce myself. Wait. I'm jumping the gun. In order for you to fully comprehend the power I wield, I should first explain the vampires I am referring to. Please, erase from your mind any visuals of Dracula or the coven of the Twilight series. The vampires I have fought are entirely different entities and are those that many face on a daily basis; quintessential horrors of the imagination. While I am proud of my triumphs over the vampires of conformity and success, I know I must still face the most powerful one of all. She is the vampire that wakes me at 4:00 am and envelops my mind: the vampire of self-truth.

I first met the potent Irina in fifth grade. In retrospect, her arrival coincided with the disintegration of the world as I knew it. My elementary school life was initially characterized by happiness, popularity, and acceptance. Then, in fifth grade, everything changed. For some unfathomable reason (emerging adolescent female hormones, perhaps?), my classmates and friends suddenly and inexplicably turned on me collectively in the first weeks of school. One teacher even suggested I just accept that "someone has to be the scapegoat." Then, in a one-two punch of back-to-back family meetings, my parents announced they were separating, and my father came out to me. I was isolated, crushed and devastated.

I recall the day she arrived. I was alone (yet again) eating my carefully crafted Velveeta sandwich wondering which Stepford girl would knock me down with the silver platter her parents handed her. Suddenly all sound drained from the room except for the drumming from my heart. I looked up and saw a beautiful fifth-grade face smiling back at me. Was I peering into a funhouse mirror? She was, in essence, me, only better. Her silky milk chocolate hair framed brilliant emerald eyes, which seemed to radiate from flawless porcelain skin. She was not all perfection, however. Her smile exuded false warmth and her scent was that of a field of lilies, possessing an ever-so-subtle hint of old bologna--odd, because I hate bologna. I was simultaneously drawn to and wary of her. Without moving her lips, the name Irina resonated. Despite my trepidation, loneliness won out and she became my best friend. I would eventually learn she had her own agenda.

The months following her appearance in my life were marked by her increasing radiance and my increasing invisibility. We were inseparable because, well, I was in solitary confinement and she was everything I wanted. Interestingly, she would weigh in on my decisions with opinions that often contradicted my own gut instincts. I did not realize until it was almost too late that her dictations of solitude served only to increase her power over me. At some point, my subconscious took over and I began to fight back. I began to fight for me.

My first victory over my imaginary companion was the summer before sixth grade. After three years of training, and despite Irina's contrary whispers, I found myself proudly standing receiving my black belt. She ignored me for a week. The first weeks back amongst the lemmings in school were hellacious, however, and I soon found myself heeding Irina's whispers again. Then an exciting thing happened: I won the lead in the school play! I finally earned some respect from my peers, and contempt from Irina. I had an epiphany. Adapting myself to a single role, acting, might allow me to make small gains toward acceptance and eventual reinvention. Irina's

opposition fueled my resolve.

This victory for my own self began a long drive towards my eventual success over Irina's power over me, sparking a metamorphosis that shaped me through middle school and into high school. As I discovered my interest in science and writing, and my newfound ability to assimilate myself into new groups by changing myself, Irina grew darker, colder, her appearance shifting to a harsh, pale reflection of her former beauty in my mind. More noticeably, my new confidence accompanied her increasing hostility. Still, I was comforted by her presence, as she alone knew my real core self.

I reached a crossroads when I decided to run for Class Vice-President my freshman year. I desperately wanted to make the changes I could foresee, yet the potential responsibility overwhelmed me. As I courted every school subculture for votes, I began to wonder which group I really belonged to. Irina's former brilliance returned with a vengeance. A high-pitched cackle echoed in my mind and I realized in a flash that segmentation had been her ultimate plan. I was inundated by the fear that I would never be able to put 'me' back together again. With each scholastic and extracurricular success, my school-self exuded increased confidence, while my inner-self felt held together by staples.

The one fault in Irina's plan was the assumption that I would crumble under such a heavy realization. She underestimated my drive and tenacity--or was it me underestimating me? Regardless, Irina's renewed presence only heightened my desires to challenge myself and to give back. My tutoring, science research and additional elected positions empowered and enabled me to become the Lauren that I had only dreamt of becoming years ago. As these final typewritten words bring the stake to Irina's heart, I realize that I now know who I am, and am confident in what I can achieve. My vampire is slain, and I am freed of the weight from my shoulders; her feeding off the doubt and inconsistency of the weaker me. Looking around, I see ... nothing. Irina has permanently faded into the shadows. I am me again.

ANY criticism is MUCH appreciated! You are all fantastic people, and I thank you for taking the time to read it.

I've also been having some terrible difficulty cutting the essay down. If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears--or eyes, in this case. =]